29 Chicago, United States
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My self-summary
How does one make a giant profile about themselves without sounding narcissistic or douchey? Beats me...

I am a strong, independent black woman who don't need no man.

I'm Josh I live in Streeterville, Chicago and my social security number is...
I like Cooking, movies, video games, pop culture, the steampunk scene, Arrested Development, and my mom. She's pretty cool.

I'm a bit of the romantic type. At least I would like to think so. I enjoy my partners and spending time and getting to know them. Or, as the french would say in the language of love Je suis un outil géant et j'ai utilisé un traducteur en ligne pour cette
What I’m doing with my life
I have a job. I work in IT. I like it, and if I say so myself, I'm good at it, too. It's moved me from city to city a lot, but I think it's safe to say that I'm sticking in Chicago for a while.
I’m really good at
Breathing. I've doing it practically all my life.
The first things people usually notice about me
My hair. The glorious faux-hawk attracts and swoons everyone whose eyes lay sight on it.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Indiana Jones. No questions asked.

I really am big on all types of adventure or scifi movies. If it's licensed by Lucas Film, I probably own the box set, or at least a collector's edition (Star wars, Indiana Jones, Labyrinth, etc.).

I love music, and play guitar. rather than list out genres I like, I'll say the ones i don't: rap, country, most pop, folk, and most electronic.

Video games are another passion of mine. I love all sorts of video games and love even more girls who play video games, even if it's just the sims.

Cooking has been a hobby of mine since my early University years. I cook up some fine soul food, but i also appreciate the "finer" side of dining. Since I'm a Georgia boy, I know how to make it and eat it, too.
The six things I could never do without
Friends (not the TV show)
Friends (the TV show)
A sense of humor
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Penguins. They're pretty cool, you got to admit.
On a typical Friday night I am
Watching a box set of dvds, at a concert, perhaps even at a bar. All with friends, of course. Probably making dinner, too. I love to cook.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
Bit of a story to this one.

One time, back in high school, I had an unbridled love for this woman named Maria, who, might I add, was three years older than this little freshman was at the time. She was my sunshine, my starlight, my first love. Sh was all my adolescent brain could think about (If you know what I mean).
Anyways, I had made the mistake of telling my friend Steve about my love for Maria. Being the naive ninth grader I was, expected confidentiality from him, also a ninth grader. Without my knowledge, he told someone, who told someone, who told me that he had heard that beautiful Maria had liked me.
Again, being the freshman I was, I decided to follow up on this by following her (in a totally non-creepy way... Right?). Of course, as a romantic gesture, I had written her a poem confessing my love, I had even bought her flowers.
Anyways, I had a big plan to meet up with her at the end of the day, only to ride off into the distance in her 1983 Toyota Tercel station wagon. Romantic, right? I knew where she lived because I had been there as a kid (my brother was friends with her), so I was going to wait until she got home from a party and go up to her as she was going in and confess my love. It was the perfect plan.
So, I got to here house, I must've walked a mile, flowers in hand. I knew I had to make it a surprise that I was there, so, against better judgement, I hid in one of the bushes and waited for her to come back. When that shitty, shitty station wagon pulled up and she got out, I knew what I had to do. I prepared to get out of the bush, and, just as I was doing so, I realized that it wasn't her car that had pulled up. Another guy got out of the car, and went to her on the hood, and they started flirted and making out on the car.
So there I was, fourteen years old, in a bush of my love's house who had been taken by another man, practically crying because I didn't know what to do. I decided I had to run, run all the way home, but I knew I couldn't until they were done practically humping on his car.
An eternity and five minutes later, he finally left, without seeing me, might I add. So, I booked it, not even thinking to pick up the damn flowers or love poem. It was already too late when I realized I forgot them, so the next morning, I went back to her, yet again, to save myself and get the flowers. But, much to my dismay I had discovered my worst nightmare. The flowers and poem weren't there. My face got red and I filled with embarrassment and I walked. I walked a mile all the way back to my house. And that was the end of that.
You should message me if
You have a pulse and are human. Preferably immune to sarcasm